


The Riddle of the Troll (Hobbits are Friends, not Food)

by Chainsxwsmile



Category: Finding Nemo (Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce the Olog, Gen, Movie 1: The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, Olog, Olog-Hai, The Hobbit - Freeform, Tolkien AU for Bruce, bilbo baggins - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29369112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chainsxwsmile/pseuds/Chainsxwsmile
Summary: Instead of Gollum, Bilbo meets something considerably worse... Perhaps? This Riddles in the Dark scene rewrite features my Tolkien AU / verse of Bruce (Finding Nemo); slightly self-indulgent fanfiction written to unite two of my favorite comfort characters! Also my first fanfic ever!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Riddle of the Troll (Hobbits are Friends, not Food)

**Author's Note:**

> What if, instead of meeting Gollum in the caves, Bilbo meets a certain Troll? This is partially a scene re-write but not much is changed canon-wise: Bilbo still attains the ring, Gollum learns of Bilbo's name and home by eavesdropping.  
> The story features a Tolkien AU/verse of Bruce from Finding Nemo (i.e. instead of a nice shark, Bruce is a nice Olog (intelligent Troll invulnerable to sunlight); Bruce has always been a comfort character of mine and The Hobbit has always been a beloved story to me. I just wanted to unite the two in a small scene.  
> This is also my first fanfiction ever! Enjoy!

_Bilbo faces the cavern troll_ , drawn by me, Chainsxwsmile

He had landed on something soft; at least Bilbo had enough self-awareness to be grateful for that. The ample colony of sizable mushrooms softened his fall down the cavern yet the same couldn’t be said for his goblin assailant. Despite Bilbo’s own knuckles skinned raw, his hip throbbing from the fall, and all sorts of grime gathered upon his clothes, his injuries couldn’t hold a candle to the unfortunate goblin who had taken a tumble alongside the hobbit. The creature wheezed, with barely enough strength to move its head about the darkened crevice surrounding them both. Bilbo had half a mind to pity the creature, even if he had only felt its rotten teeth sink into his neck just a few moments before their fall.

The edges of Bilbo’s vision still blurred, and he squinted against the lowlight— and jumped as a pair of uncannily massive eyes met his own. A skulking being, vertebrate protruding from its arched back as it stalked forward on all fours, slunk into the dim light. Instinctively, Bilbo stilled within the cover of the mushrooms, and he held his breath as the creature’s raspy voice echoed across the chasm.

“ _Yesss_. Yes! Yes,” the creature grinned terribly, before something between a cough and choke rose from its throat. “ _Gollum. Gollum!”_ it hissed, and its spindly hands snatched the ankles of the dazed goblin. The sudden movement launched Bilbo’s former assailant into a frenzy and the goblin thrashed about, shrieking and clawing. The gangly creature returned the blows, stone in hand, strategically smashing in the goblin’s skull; the goblin went limp and the shrieks died in its throat. “Nasty goblinses are better than old bones, precious,” the spindly creature mused aloud, grunting as it dragged its prize behind it. “Better than nothing.”

Only when the horrid creature and its prey slipped from his sight did Bilbo finally remember to breathe. It came out in a shudder, and the hobbit scrambled to his feet; and quite grateful beyond doubt that his sword—still glowing a dazzling blue— buried itself beneath a mushroom cap, hidden from the terrible creature. As Bilbo’s hand steadied the weight of the sword, a metallic flash on the cavern floor caught his eye. He bent down and retrieved in his hand a ring. Golden and simple, yet starkly elegant against the cavern walls. A screeching wail far off in the distance snapped Bilbo from his thoughts, and he trekked forward, pocketing the ring and keeping his glowing sword low.

“Aah, too many boneses, precious! Not enough flesh,” the gangly creature cried, and then in a harsher voice; “Shut up! Cut its skin off! Start with its head.” Against his own instincts, Bilbo slunk past the piles of bones that haphazardly littered the cavern floor, his eyes fastened to the creature perched atop a sharp rock protruding out from the cavern lake.

“The cold hard lands, they bites our hands, they gnaws our feet, for rocks and stones are like old bones all bare of meat, cold as death, without no breath it’s good to eat.” In every beat of the song, the creature’s hands—armed with a sharp rock— descended upon the goblin’s head. Bilbo winced visibly at every strike and each sickening sound the blows produced. At last, the rock smashed the goblin’s skull once more that Bilbo’s sword flickered like candlelight before being snuffed out, dead.

Suddenly a booming voice growled from beyond the rock, and Bilbo watched silently as the horrid gangly creature scattered from his sight, frightened off by the owner of the voice. From the shadow beyond the lake drew a hulking figure; so large Bilbo wondered how it had managed to get into the caverns in the first place. Nearly five meters tall, the being towered over the fallen, dead goblin, sniffing it shortly before giving what Bilbo presumed was a disgusted growl. Then two glowing, beady blue eyes met Bilbo’s and the hobbit saw the beast’s posture straighten in mild surprise.

It had seen him.

The hobbit scrambled back from the water, back against the rock, and lay still as he could, hoping that the beast would either lose interest or leave. Yet not even a moment went by that Bilbo felt any icy droplet of water on his curled locks. And then another. And as his eyes glanced upward— and upward and upward more— Bilbo felt his heart stop. The beast had silently crossed the lake and stood over the poor frightened hobbit, who gaped helplessly at the enormous foe. The beast quickly lumbered down from the rock formation, hastily putting itself between Bilbo and any means of escape; the behemoth’s movement so eerily silent, Bilbo couldn’t help but start to shake. But that wasn’t even the worst part; as the beast faced the hobbit, a terribly wide grin stretched across its scarred lips. If there was any breath left in Bilbo, the sight of the toothy smile snatched it from him. Canines the size of the little hobbit’s legs flashed a deadly white alongside each pointed, razor-sharp tooth. Heavy brows lidded the beast’s beady eyes in what Bilbo could only assume to be a ghastly intrigued expression. Like a cat licking its maw and readying itself to play with a poor mouse until it was beaten dead. The thought only escalated Bilbo’s shaking, and he was quite surprised he hadn’t dropped his sword yet. This close, Bilbo could see with what he was dealing: the beast was a troll.

Not a stone troll; a slate-blue color graced the creature’s rough skin, and a black mane ran down its thick, muscular neck. Its broad nose was shaped like that of a great cat’s and it idled naturally on all fours.

Then it spoke, in a deep, rumbling voice that sent a shiver down Bilbo’s spine.

“Hello,” it— he— bellowed. For a moment, Bilbo could only reply with a squeak— as that was all he could get out of his throat, at first. “Y-Yes, hello,” he replied politely, backing against the solid rock and holding his sword out precariously before him. Much luck that sword would do; it looked like a toothpick to the troll! The beast neared closer again, placing his enormous face— and toothy maw— within touching distance. The troll’s nostril’s flared and a sharp exhale billowed Bilbo’s hair and elicited a rather pitiful whimper from the hobbit. Yes, this troll was much bigger than the stone trolls; and Thorin’s company was very likely on the other side of the mountain for all Bilbo knew.

Oh, what terrible luck!

“Never seen a tasty li’l bite like you b’fore,” the troll mused. A gargantuan hand rose up to prod at the hobbit, and Bilbo quickly reacted, swinging the sword at the giant hand’s threat.

“Stay back! Stay back!” the hobbit warned sternly, though his knees shook, and the sword trembled in his hands. The troll blinked, and for a moment Bilbo wondered if the beast would decide to smash him with a fist and be done with it. Instead, a hearty — albeit blood-chilling— laugh rolled out of the troll’s cavernous throat and his terrible teeth flashed evermore brightly.

“Easy there, li’l **_morsel_** ,” the troll reassured Bilbo; or at least, Bilbo wondered if that was even _meant_ as a reassurance. “Just wonderin’ what you are, is all. I don’t get much company these days.”

Bilbo blinked, and then swallowed hard, his throat dry with anxiety. “My name is Bilbo Baggins,” he answered, suddenly feeling rather claustrophobic despite the enormity of cavern around them both.

Suddenly the clawed hand shot forward again— and Bilbo braced himself to take its blow— until it stopped short before him, extended out in greeting. “Name’s Bruce,” the troll grinned toothily. Bilbo was fairly certain he’d have better luck fitting his whole body in the troll’s palm than successfully shaking the troll’s hand. Let alone wrapping one of his hands around the troll’s single finger. The troll— Bruce— caught onto Bilbo’s hesitation and, after a beat, retrieved his hand.

“So, Bilbo,” Bruce continued, still towering over the poor hobbit. “Where’re ye from?”

“I-I’m a hobbit. From the Shire.” Bilbo answered quickly, wondering when and if the troll would back away, and allow Bilbo a chance to escape. Or even just a chance to breathe.

“A hobbit, eh?” The troll’s smile grew— if that were possible. “Well, I’ve never _had_ a hobbit b’fore,” Bruce chuckled before adding, almost as an afterthought. “Well, never _as company_ , that’s for sure.”

With each morbid joke at his expense, Bilbo’s paralyzing fear metamorphosed to panicked irritability; his brows lowered and narrowed his eyes, and his mouth drew to a thin line. “Okay, look— I just want to get out of here, so if you could quit playing your games, I’ll gladly be on my way!” Bilbo pleaded. Well, if he knew how to get out of there. The various tunnels wound about the mountain in a cavernous labyrinth.

“Games, eh?” The troll let out a noise which Bilbo couldn’t quite discern; it was either a low, lulling growl or a thoughtful hum. “Well, my li’l tidbit, why don’t we ‘ave ourselves a li’l wager, eh?” Bruce arched a brow. “A li’l guessin’ game, if ye will.”

Bilbo furrowed his brows, tentatively. “What, like... riddles?” he asked.

“Yeah! Just like that. Ye wanna get out so badly, why not make it _fun_.”

_Well, perhaps fun for you_ , Bilbo grumbled in his mind but considered the offer, silently. He hadn’t any clue this troll would keep his word. But if Bilbo didn’t play along... what stopped Bruce from killing him then and there? The hobbit cleared his throat. “Very well; if I win, you show me the way out of here.”

“Ah, that’s the spirit, li’l bite,” Bruce grinned broadly before inching closer, ignoring the sword pointed at his face. “And what if I win, eh?”

A short breath slipped out from Bilbo at the thought of such a grisly end; he wondered how this troll fancied to kill him. Perhaps like the stone trolls— maybe the giant brute would cook him alive, or sit on him and crush him, or tear the hobbit limb from limb. Bilbo shuddered before finding his words. “If you win, you can... have your way with me.” Perhaps Bilbo just needed to spare himself the details for now.

“It’s a deal, then,” the massive troll replied before backing away; and for the first time in what seemed like hours, Bilbo finally grappled to catch a breath without the beast hovering over him.

As Bruce backed off, Bilbo could take in the entirety of the troll without having to move his head about wildly. In the lowlight, Bilbo could vaguely catch traces of a dappled pattern along the troll’s back, shoulders, and arms that appeared like blots and splatters of ink. His toes were shaped more like plantigrade hooves than normal feet. His skin was bare, save for a weathered leather armored skirt that fell to his knees.

“You go first, li’l morsel,” Bruce ordered, turning to face Bilbo before the troll reclined onto the cavern floor like a great big cat. Remembering his manners, Bilbo, in turn, sheathed his sword.

The hobbit paused a moment in thought before beginning: “Thirty white horses on a red hill. First, they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.” Bilbo watched as the troll’s face took on a mildly puzzled expression, and Bruce’s beady blue eyes flit across the cavern floors as if the answer lay spelled out the piles of bones. Yet, not a second later, the troll’s face lit up and Bruce grinned toothily. “Teeth?” he asked, and Bilbo felt his own posture deflate. Bruce, however, took it rather victoriously, letting out another deafening laugh. “Hah! Good one, li’l hobbit! Guess it’s my turn, then?” Bruce cleared his throat. “My body is a tree and my teeth are from the ground. I’m carried by the millions, and I lunge to strike you down.”

Bilbo wet his lips and nodded, trying to ignore the troll’s constant, predatory gaze upon him. Body is a tree; that means it’s made of wood. Lunging to strike. Not a snake. Teeth from the ground. Not a sword. “A spear!” Bilbo guessed.

The troll scoffed, though the smile betrayed him. “What, am I makin’ this too easy for ye?”

Bilbo blinked, mouth opened but couldn’t quite find the right, careful words to reply. So, he continued onto the next riddle: “A…a box without hinges, key or…or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.”

The troll’s smile faltered before a thoughtful expression—one Bilbo hadn’t imagined befalling the face of a troll—crept onto Bruce’s face. Bilbo leapt back as the troll rose from the ground; yet this time, Bruce did so slowly and nonchalantly—so much that Bilbo had half a mind to wonder if this was a trap. That the troll feigned disinterest in the hobbit and more attention to the riddles, only to turn around a snatch him up. Yet as Bilbo watched, the troll’s lips moved silently, as if reciting back the words of the riddle. The hobbit breathed shakily, impatiently. “ _Well_?”

“Didn’t think there was a time limit,” the troll retorted, arching a brow, and Bilbo drew back silently… until the troll’s eyes lit up suddenly again. “Eggs?”

The hobbit sighed audibly, disheartened, and wondered how much time he’d been wasting trying to keep this beast entertained; Thorin and others were probably on the other side of the mountains by now, and presumably didn’t even notice his absence.

The troll didn’t laugh this time at his win, which caused Bilbo to glance up, worriedly. Bruce lumbered back towards him, and the hobbit’s hand subconsciously reached for his sword. “My turn, li’l bite,” the troll purred, moving past Bilbo. A cloud of vocal, screeching bats suddenly took wing from the cavern walls and caught the hobbit’s attention, and he whipped around, momentarily distracted. Yet when Bilbo’s eyes returned to where the troll _should have been,_ a gasp slipped from his mouth. How did such a massive creature just disappear? One moment, Bruce had been there, idling and hovering over Bilbo, and the next—

From out of the various tunnels and shadows, the troll’s voice echoed once more, reminding Bilbo that the beast was still very much there. And watching him carefully. “The fallen li’l bat pup caught in the lion’s claws. The fledgling in a mist net. The minnow in gar jaws.”

The hobbit felt his brows furrow in confusion; Bilbo hadn’t heard any of these troll’s riddles.

“ _Well_?” boomed the voice from the shadows.

The hobbit shook his head. “Please give me a _moment!_ I did give you a good long while.” _Bat pup? Lion? Fledgling? Minnow?_ “I don’t know this one,” the hobbit confessed, in a voice louder than he anticipated. Again, the rumbling, growling hum echoed about the cavern walls. Bilbo turned about, unable to find the direction of the source.

“Want three guesses, li’l morsel?” the voice crooned. Bilbo found himself nodding, against his better judgment.

“Bad luck?” the hobbit guessed aloud.

“Close,” the voice bellowed back. “But a bit too broad. Guess again.”

Biting his lips, Bilbo racked through his brain, though anxiety threatened to cloud his thoughts. “ _Prey_?”

“Ye’re gettin’ there,” the voice crooned again. “Last guess. Last chance.”

He was close—at least according to the disembodied voice echoing about the cavern walls. Bilbo turned about, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light. Trying to pick out the massive troll from beneath the shadows. The hobbit unsheathed his sword, feeling his heartbeat accelerating with every second. “ _Captured_ prey?”

The voice gave a ‘ _tsk’_ sound with a tone of feigned pity. “Wrong.”

“Well, then what is it?” the hobbit turned and turned, sword out before him.

Bilbo felt hot breath on his neck and a growl in his ear. “ _You_.”

A giant clawed hand struck out. Before Bilbo could even process the sudden blur of movement, he was on the ground, tiny bones prodding into his back. He heard the distinct clatter of metal against stone and his right hand felt vulnerably empty; his sword glinted almost cruelly just out of reach. All breath left him as the clawed hand weighed down upon his entire body, pinning him to the cold cavern floor. His legs kicked futilely, and he squirmed beneath the troll’s grasp. Bilbo could barely remember his mouth opening, but found his own voice – “ _No, no, no, no!”_ – so very far away, as if it didn’t even belong to him anymore and he was dead already.

Then the troll’s terrible grin suddenly filled every inch of Bilbo’s sight as Bruce’s face steadied itself half a meter from Bilbo’s own. The little hobbit prayed that it wouldn’t be the last sight he’d take to the grave. “Looks like I win, then,” Bruce grinned triumphantly.

The troll didn’t even give Bilbo any time to respond or react before the massive hand flipped him over, and Bilbo could only watch from the corner of his eye as jaws descended upon him. The poor hobbit let out a strangled scream as the enormous canines slipped beneath his chest and above his legs, and he felt hot breath spread across his captured torso. Bilbo struggled and scratched and kicked with every parcel of strength left in his body. He watched helplessly as the ground fell beneath him, as the troll raised him into the air, and the horrid realization set in; Bilbo was held— _captured_ — in the troll’s jaws. It was almost too much for the little hobbit’s heart, and the corners of his vision blurred. Perhaps if he were lucky, he would faint and miss the pain of being torn in two by the sheer strength of the troll’s bite. Seconds felt like hours as Bruce held the hobbit in his teeth’s grasp, and Bilbo glanced about his surroundings, dazed by the attack and partially awaiting the minute that the jaws would snap together, and he’d be reduced to cuts of meat.

But the agony didn’t come.

Suddenly, Bruce lurched forward. They were moving. Forward, he thought, though vertigo set in and, for a moment, Bilbo couldn’t quite tell up from down. He _could_ feel the points of the troll’s premolars digging into both his chest and thighs; luckily, they hadn’t pierced the skin, but would most certainly bruise later. If Bilbo wasn’t eaten before that.

“Where are we going? Where are you taking me?” Bilbo asked, breathlessly. His hands grappled at the flesh along the troll’s chin and his legs kicked weakly in protest.

“Ye’ll see soon ‘nough,” the troll replied, his words muffled; this close, Bilbo could feel the deepness of Bruce’s voice vibrating through his body and it did little to calm whatever nerves he had left. The edges of Bilbo’s vision blurred, then darkened, and the little hobbit slipped out of consciousness.

\----

Bilbo awoke with a jolt and immediately felt the teeth digging into his chest once more. The hobbit gave a shaky sigh, disappointed that it hadn’t all been a nightmare and he’d been back in Rivendell this whole time.

“Oh, good! Ye’re awake. We’re comin’ up to a dodgy part in the path ahead. If it makes ye feel better,” Bruce said, shaking Bilbo from his thoughts. “Don’t look down.”

_Don’t look—?_ In the dim light, Bilbo couldn’t quite discern if the ground _had_ fallen away, or if the cavern floor were simply a pitch black. The troll’s claw dislodged a stream of pebbles that descended into the floor, swallowed up by the darkness below. Well, that answered Bilbo’s question. A sharp ravine wound beneath both him and his captor with a width large enough for the hobbit to slip and fall through. Yet the troll’s size was so great that it was nothing more than a furrow in the middle of the road; Bruce kept his arms and legs on each side, far from the middle of the path.

After moments turned to minutes and fear dissolved into disgruntled impatience, Bilbo found his voice returning to his throat. “Why aren’t you telling me where we’re headed?”

“Would it matter to you?”

The hobbit sighed, dejected, and grew silent. Bruce was most certainly taking Bilbo to his hoard, or his part of the cave to devour. And Bilbo figured that the troll _knew_ that the _hobbit knew_ this. And he hadn’t even his sword to defend himself.

“So ‘ow’d ye end up down ‘ere, anyway?” the troll asked, words still garbled from holding Bilbo beneath his teeth. Self-awareness nearly caused the hobbit to scoff with sickened amusement. Here Bilbo was, dangling from the mouth of a giant troll, and the troll wanted to know his prey’s life story. 

“Do you ask that question to everyone you eat?” Bilbo asked, impatiently. “Or are you just trying to fill the silence?”

“The latter, usually,” the troll replied, with a shrug. “Might as well, while we walk.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Bilbo sighed, brow low as he squirmed with discomfort. “I… I was with a company, but I lost them in the mountains,” Bilbo said, shortly before adding, “But I doubt my absence will matter all that much.”

The troll grew uncharacteristically silent for a moment and Bilbo chanced some movement to turn his head, catching a glimpse that confused him greatly. The beady blue eyes of the troll had softened, brows knit with an almost _concerned_ expression. What was it spread across the beast’s face? Guilt that he was going to soon eat his company? Sympathy to Bilbo’s plight?

After a long moment, Bruce finally spoke again. “We’re ‘lmost there, lil’ morsel,” the troll said solemnly. “It’s just up ahead.”

Bilbo turned his head to the side, in the direction of their path. A single thin line of light sliced through the darkness. For a moment, the hobbit could only see white through the shape; yet as his eyes adjusted and the troll drew closer, he could catch colors of green and blue, and caught the scent of pine trees and crisp air. The way out. He was so close. So close to freedom that he could feel the wind of the outside world. Yet, just as the realization had settled into the hobbit’s mind, Bilbo felt the troll lurch to a stop and his heart sank. It was right there. The door was _right there!_

Suddenly the ground rushed up to meet Bilbo as Bruce lowered his jaws to the ground. The hobbit didn’t feel the teeth pull away from him until both of his furry feet were planted on the ground. Already, Bilbo could feel the wind on his face and the warm light from the outside world dip the stark, gray stones around the entrance into a honeyed glow. Even the troll’s features shone clearer; Bilbo noticed the various scars lining the troll’s body and the odd hue of blue in the troll’s skin.

He _also_ noticed that the troll stood in the sunlight, yet Bruce’s skin didn’t transform into dusty gray rock. Which meant— Oh, Bilbo’s heart sank suddenly. Even if he made a mad dash for the exit of the cave, the troll would catch up to him.

Not even sunlight could save him.

“’lright, Bilbo. Ye ready?” Bruce’s voice bellowed from behind Bilbo, and the hobbit felt his face redden.

So that’s how it was going to be, then? The troll would ask the hobbit to just hold still and snap him up, when Bilbo was inches from getting out of the horrid cave? Did the troll think Bilbo would react kindly—obediently— and go quietly as he was butchered? No! Certainly not! This was too much!

“You— you absolute fiend!” Bilbo needn’t care about any insult thrown towards the troll; he was going to die, anyway. And Bruce’s treatment towards his prey couldn’t be any crueler. “Is this all a game to you? Taking me all this way out of caves just to eat me? Just to have freedom be _right there_ and snatch it all away?!” Furious, the hobbit punched and kicked at the troll’s legs, thick as tree trunks. The blows did little to move Bruce, and Bilbo doubted the troll could even _feel_ them. If only he’d still had his sword; at least he’d give the troll _some_ pain for the hobbit’s trouble. Only when the hobbit’s attacks persisted did a giant hand snatch Bilbo up again. Yet anger had replaced any fear still residing in Bilbo and his mouth pressed firmly into a line, defiantly glowering at his captor.

“I’m not gonna eat’cha,” Bruce confessed, a guilty expression spreading across his scarred features. “Never was.”

Bilbo froze, blinked, and then sputtered indignantly. Not that he _wished_ to be eaten or killed or mangled— heavens, no! “Then why didn’t you just _say so?!”_ the hobbit asked as the volume of his voice rose, sternly.

The troll heaved a heavy sigh. “I _wanted to!_ I _did,_ believe me! It’s just… I heard the little cave creature followin’ us—”

Bilbo blinked in confusion before memories rushed back, of stone in gnarled hand and the goblin’s broken skull.

“He was gettin’ quite close to you from the shadows; I needed to make sure he thought ye were a goner.”

The hobbit recalled the spindly creature, its throaty, scratchy voice as it bludgeoned the goblin to death. Bilbo could barely find his own words, bewildered. “But you said—“ 

“ _You_ said I could ‘ave my way with ye,” Bruce grinned, yet this time his eyes were soft. Thoughtful, even. “Never actually said anythin’ ‘bout eatin’ ye, that’s for sure.” The troll then reached behind him along his leather belt and retrieved a shining object, pinched delicately between his thumb and index finger. Bilbo’s brows rose. His sword! All this time, he’d thought the troll left it behind them in the cave. With a strange gentleness, Bruce set the hobbit down and handed the sword back to Bilbo, handle first. “Might wanna hurry ‘long then. I smell yer friends up ahead.”

The hobbit blinked incredulously before accepting back his sword and returning it to its sheath. He swallowed before raising his gaze up to the giant. “Thank you,” Bilbo said, quite sincerely.

“Maybe we’ll meet ‘gain, li’l bite. Hopefully under better circumstances,” Bruce said, giving a nod to the hobbit before turning back towards the cave.

Bilbo gave one last look at the odd troll before nodding in return; and he hurried along, racing down the hill in hopes of catching up to the company.


End file.
